“NO, he’s NOT an asshole!” A petulant pout follows, with those wide eyes of enthusiasm narrowed down to a piercing stare framed around that wide beetle black glasses. Her detractor raised an eyebrow .” He’s the sweetest thing ever! ” Pursed Lips. I just give a nonchalant smile…its after all the first time I met her. AnAn is the typical young up and coming artiste taking residence in the lane of 50 Moganshan Road, a once decreipt range of warehouses and factories now teeming with small galleries, large workshops and studios , one of the centers of Chinese Art. Curiosity led me eventually to this tiny avante garde dynamo, whom tackled any attempt of sizing her up with a rather long blow of cigarette smoke .

An embodiment of the caricature of a people that somehow don’t fit into society, but rather shaped it with their creativity, dynamism and the outright defiance that any blind mass following of ideas is good. They take pride in their invdividuality, kindness, and are only too keen to share their world with the bewildered visitor who may count themselves fortunate or unfortunate to enter their kaidelescopic world. I am fortunate to be there, as I take a long slouch on their rickety varnished wooden chairs, listening. Taking in their arguments from boys to the best way to polish a silver ring, right under an incadescent light bulb surrounded by a halo of flying termites..